


in the palm of your freezing hand

by captain_emmajones



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, this involves hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29064594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_emmajones/pseuds/captain_emmajones
Summary: Post 3x09.Everyone’s settled down in the crew’s cabin, with the hammocks and the bunk beds, but Emma knows she will not get any sleep tonight.She still feels on the edge of a precipice, can still feel the void calling to her and the restless shaking of her legs.The bitter taste, at the back of her throat, will not be swallowed down and this foreboding knot in her stomach will not stop whispering, murmuring, that something terrible has yet to happen.Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe. We are --(Emma alone at night on deck of the Jolly Roger as they make their way back to Storybrooke... or is she really alone? Hurt/Comfort)
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41
Collections: CS Neverland New Year





	in the palm of your freezing hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> Here is my contribution for Neverland New Year. Bigs thanks to the mods for organizing this, and to carpedzem for reading this over for me <3
> 
> I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes. Y'all know I'm not a native speaker and they are all mine ;)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS: oh and title is from Ivy by queen Tay Tay.

The ladder creaks under Emma’s footsteps as she climbs out of Hook’s quarters where Henry lies peacefully asleep. 

The ocean breeze greets her outside; it tangles and dusts salt crystals into her hair. Goosebumps run across the exposed skin of her neck as the wood of the Jolly Roger exhales sighs of content, lulled by the waves. 

Emma breathes in -- 

After Neverland, and the lost boys, and saving Henry, everything is so distinctively quiet on deck. It has been deserted; there is not a human soul to be spotted. 

\-- and exhales a sigh of relief, looking up with leaden eyelids towards the starry sky. 

Lazy, white clouds twirl around the moon; they seem to be competing for her attention as she bathes the ship in a cold, silver light. 

Another gust of wind swirls around Emma; she folds her arms around her body to smother a shiver and paces forward. 

It is her first moment of peace, all by herself, in forever. 

She licks her lips, tastes salt on the tip of her tongue, as she walks towards the ship’s bow. And repeats cautiously to herself:  _ Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe.  _

Everyone’s settled down in the crew’s cabin, with the hammocks and the bunk beds, but Emma knows she will not get any sleep tonight. 

She still feels on the edge of a precipice, can still feel the void calling to her and the restless shaking of her legs. 

The bitter taste, at the back of her throat, will not be swallowed down and this foreboding knot in her stomach will not stop whispering,  _ murmuring _ , that something terrible has yet to happen. 

_ Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe. We are --  _

Emma wraps her arms around herself in a tighter embrace to gather a surplus of heat. Angry shivers run down her spine, but she needs the fresh air, she needs the distraction in order to remain afloat and -- 

“Are you alright there, Swan?” 

She startles, heart racing, and spins around to face Hook emerging from the shadow, his coat swinging around him.  _ Fuck. _ Shafts of moonlight sweep over him and slowly illuminate his features, touch by touch, until Emma can make out his eyebrows furrowed in a line of concern above eyes that have no business being this blue.

Her gaze lowers, flutters along pink lips and lands onto the pile of blankets folded against his chest. This sight brings her back to a few hours ago, when Hook safely tucked the blue bed cover of his single bed beneath Henry’s chin before standing up with a quiet smile and letting Emma and Regina flood in his room. 

“I just distributed those, but you weren’t anywhere to be found below,” he continues, stepping towards her. 

Emma blames his sharp and knowing gaze for her pounding heart and her anxious step backward. She thinks hurt flashes in his eyes, but it is only a momentary flicker and it soon dies into a gentle smile. 

And Emma’s figured out in Neverland that there isn’t much she can do, against that smile, and this earnest look on his face. 

“I’m okay,” she finally exhales, but it isn’t enough to dissipate the uneasiness she sees in his eyes. 

A playful gale interrupts her, preventing her from adding anything else, and she shuts her eyes under the cold surprise, muscles stiffening. 

Before she knows it, something soft embraces her and Emma lifts her eyelids to see Hook in front of her, securing a blanket around her shoulders. 

“There,” he whispers, even as his fingers skim lightly over the skin of her neck and then stop, “That’s much better, isn’t it, Swan?” 

Emma swallows down. Her hands fasten over the blanket, trembling fingers brushing against Hook’s. Her eyelashes flutter and a wobbling smile flickers across her face as his musky scent fills in her lungs. 

“Thanks.” A tender smile curls up the corners of his mouth and Emma’s heart lurches an unfair amount. 

Yeah...Fighting against that side of Hook is definitely harder than it looks like. 

Before she can catch herself gazing longer into his eyes, she whirls around to face the green waves that cradle and crash against the Jolly Roger. Although she cannot see him, Emma feels Hook’s hovering presence settling beside her. 

They stand there in a comfortable silence, shoulders almost touching, and Emma thinks it has been weird to see the pirate persona fade away, yielding to the Captain beneath it -- a Captain who has made sure everyone was safe and sound on his ship. 

She saw him proceed calmly, organized as he ordered everyone around and Emma thinks she caught a glimpse of the pirate Captain who, for three hundred years, was the only leader aboard this ship.

Emma also thinks it is odd how easily he gave up on his leadership, in Neverland, but then she stops thinking about it because those are dangerous territories to explore. 

Something bubbles up in the sea, beneath them. Emma squints. It must be a fish. 

“Did you eat anything?” He suddenly asks, shattering the silence. 

She shakes her head, blanket twirling along with her, and aims for a detached tone when she mumbles: “Nope. Wasn’t hungry.” 

And lowers her gaze for proper emphasis.

He sighs next to her. “You need to eat, Swan. And sleep. Savior or not, you are still human.” 

She scowls. “I’m not seeing you doing a lot of sleeping either.” 

A small laugh escapes him and Emma instinctively tilts her face to stare at him, biting her lower lip to smother a smile and clutching hard her blanket. 

It must be her lack of sleep, or just the euphoria of finally leaving Neverland, but Emma feels slightly drunk. Now that she thinks about it, her eyelids burn. 

“Point taken, Swan. However, this ship still needs a Captain. And once we’ll be in Storybrooke, I’ll have the rest of eternity  _ at least  _ to rest with the lots of you out of my ship.” 

He isn’t looking at her, and Emma has all the leisure to see the too big, too bright grin on his face fade into a frown and this unfamiliar and disconcerting look settle on his features. 

Emma’s stomach twists. 

“Oh yeah, don’t worry,” she hears herself say, “You’ll soon have this ship all to yourself.” 

Silence falls, dull and heavy. Even the sea seems to hold back her waves beneath her bosom, scared to shatter it. 

Emma gulps down. She does not know where to look. Gazing at him somehow feels too intimate. Something is clenching at her throat. She drops her gaze, stares at the blanket around her shoulders and then -- 

“Aye.” 

\-- and then, looks back at him. Always back at him. (That will become a pattern, but Emma does not know that yet.)

_ Fuck.  _ His head is lowered, stubborn wisp of hair hanging in front of his eyes; he seems to be examining the rings around his fingers, and Emma wishes he would look at her instead -- but he doesn’t. He remains frozen. 

A wave of heat overwhelms her and her free hand abruptly grips the wooden rail next to his. Although she winces at the cold, the desired effect occurs; he looks up, surprised, and delves into her eyes. 

Emma’s heart might sink to her feet but she goes on: “What are you going to do once we reach Storybrooke anyway? You know I won’t let you pillage and plunder this town, right?” 

The joke falls flat with the implications of her words and she sees his eyes go back and forth between hers, trying to read her. 

Panic sweeps over her. She just assumed,  _ she just assumed _ that he would stay in Storybrooke, with them,  _ as if _ , as if he  _ belongs _ there or something -- 

Thankfully for Emma, Hook’s answer comes quickly and is delivered in a gentle, soothing tone that sends a loop in her stomach. 

“I’m not after these kinds of tresors anymore, Swan.” 

Emma nods, although her heart is now beating inside her mouth and her legs have turned to stone. 

“I’m happy to hear that. I wouldn’t want to have to chase you around Storybrooke.” 

Another laughter. Even the moon looks as though she is scrunching her nose and smiling upon them. 

“I beg to differ.” 

In a moment of clarity, Emma does think she should go and try to get some sleep, before her fingers end up doing something terrible, like grabbing the lapel of his coat. 

Eventually, there is just enough willpower left in Emma to allow her to slowly retreat. She blinks, inhales, gathers strength. _ Sleep. She needs sleep.  _

“I’m sure you do,” she exhales and takes a step backward. 

As she passes him by, her right hand instinctively brushes across his arm; Emma sees Hook’s eyes widen at their contact, but he does not make any comment. 

A smile, _ she _ smiles -- 

“‘Night Hook.” 

\-- and allows herself to look up and gaze into his eyes. There is something exhilarating, about staring into his eyes. Emma does not know why. 

Without looking down, she is able to predict the spontaneous jolt of his fingers towards her, fingers that rise and reach for her, and then  _ stop _ , as if asking for permission and Emma meets him halfway. 

“Goodnight, Swan,” he answers back, as his hand curls around her knuckles,  _ how can his skin be this warm? _ , and  _ there _ is that stupid grin on Emma’s face again. 

She nods as Hook’s warm touch sends electric trails circulating all through her body. She is definitely too exhausted to care. 

Instead she keeps on smiling, fingers lingering in the comfort of his palm… 

...And then slowly backs away into the night -- a small, serene cloud floating along with her. 


End file.
